


All this and heaven too

by InkyElster (IdeenElster)



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Hand Jobs, M/M, Polyamory, Smut, future - Abigail Roberts/Arthur Morgan/John Marston, minor - Abigail Roberts/John Marston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdeenElster/pseuds/InkyElster
Summary: Something had to be wrong for John to get into his bathtub with him, but then the same could probably be said for Arthur since he hadn't put up much of a fight neither, too distracted by all the naked skin he usually didn't get to see.





	All this and heaven too

**Author's Note:**

> I probably didn't read over this enough to catch all mistakes, but please take it anyway. Also probably is probably my favorite word... probably...

The sun shone in through the windows of their house, reflecting off the water that splashed into the bathtub. It was a good size, the tub, a piece of luxury on the ranch. Arthur had never thought this could be a life he'd be allowed to have, or one he’d wish for down the line. Being on the run had been all he'd ever known. He’d never been anything but an outlaw and now here he was, filling up his very own bathtub, well, his and Abigail's and John's and Jack's, of course. It turned to be much easier to just pay for it in a hotel. 

In any case, John had managed to make a name for himself training and selling horses, probably the only thing he was really good at beside shooting a gun. They'd all learned to play their part at having a normal life, as normal as they knew how to be with how they’d all grown up. Arthur brought him some wild horses sometimes, when he came back from his odd jobs here and there. He was too old and weary to learn something new. Helping people, hunting and occasionally robbing the odd gang camp was more up his alley, no matter how much Abigail disliked it sometimes. There was no point to argue about it. 

Instead, Arthur turned back to his task. While it took ages to fill up the bathtub, he gladly did it for the moments of peace and quiet and thorough cleanliness he could enjoy afterwards. Besides, it was going faster with John giving him a hand even if he'd probably demand his turn soon enough, too.

"You seem happy," John said as he walked past him with an empty bucket while water was getting hot over the fire.

"Shouldn't I be?" Arthur returned, "none of us is getting shot at and we got a roof of our own over our heads."

John nodded and shot him a smile. "Yeah, thanks to you, Arthur."

Arthur shrugged him off and ducked his head, slightly bashful. They’d been living in each other’s pockets for years, but it was different living in a house together and not one of those tiny shacks they’d used to camp in either. Everyone had their own room, even little Jack who wasn’t as little anymore going on seven years now. It wasn’t the size of the mansion in Shady Belle, but it was thrice as clean. John’s hand brushed his as he handed over the steaming bucket, sending an unseen shudder down Arthur's spine. There’d been tension building lately. It had been building for years now, ever since little Jack had been born. First only between Abigail and John, but Arthur had found himself being pulled into their orbit, too. Increasingly so since he’d almost died after Dutch betrayed them all. Arthur couldn’t name this _something_ out loud, hesitated even to put it into words in his journal. With Mary it had been quite easier, perhaps cause it didn’t include two people. Arthur wasn’t even particularly comfortable with just _one_ person. He’d always managed to mess it up so far and that had mostly been strangers.

Despite his better judgement, he'd stayed with the Marston family after getting them away from the Pinkertons. He should have left, it would have been the smart thing to do and he knew it. Sadie and Charles had gone their own ways, but they visited sometimes. 

"Alright, that should be enough, right?" John said, snapping Arthur out of his thoughts, and stepped back from the bathtub. Steam rose up from the water and Arthur nodded. "I- I'll leave you to it then," John added hoarsely and left him to it.

“Sure,” Arthur muttered at John’s back and when the door closed behind him, he stripped off his clothes, pushing away the unbidden thought of John _staying_ and helping him do it. Outside, a sparrow chirped, momentarily perching at the open window before it took off again. He hardly paid it a thought. The water was calling to him and a drawn out sigh escaped him as he sank into the bath. Arthur laid his head back against the rim, exhaling as the hot water soothed his aches. With age they'd become more varied, but at least he wasn't as sick anymore as he used to be. For a moment he did nothing, just laid in the tub and listened to the sounds around him; the creaking of the floorboards on the other side of the door as John moved about; birds making their racket outside. Arthur smiled. Then, eventually, he grabbed the soap and lathered himself up. 

In the main room, John’s footsteps faded. He probably went out and checked on the horses. Abigail liked to say that John loved them more than he did his own son. Arthur didn’t agree, but John sure was better with them than with Jack, but he tried his best and there was nothing else that could be asked of him. He moved the soap over his skin before rinsing it all off. Then he laid back once more and closed his eyes. 

He must have dozed off, because he found himself startling when he heard John's voice and the sharp knock on the door. Ever since John had walked in on him once, he always knocked now. 

“You done in there?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and let his hands fall into the water with a splash. “Do I look done to you?” He called back. Then he immediately cursed himself for phrasing it like _that_ , because of course that meant John came in to check what he looked like. That damn fool.

John’s eyes dragged over him like something physical, driving a flush into Arthur’s face that was covered by the lingering heat of the water. Arthur sank deeper into the water with a scowl. John’s gaze finally landed on his eyes. “Yeah, you look done,” he finally said, hand still on the door. 

“Well, I'm not, so get lost,” Arthur barked out and closed his eyes again, laying his head back. He bent his legs at the knees, let his hands hang over the edge of the tub. There was silence, beside the gentle sounds of the water whenever Arthur moved. Evidently John hadn't left and a moment later Arthur let out an annoyed groan when he heard him step further into the room, followed by the rustling of clothes. He opened his eyes. Sure enough, John was getting undressed.

Arthur sat up a little straighter. “You can't be serious, Marston.” When he caught a flash of John’s bare ass, he looked away.

“I am!” John said indignantly. “I don't want to take a bath in cold water and the tub is big enough for both of us.”

Arthur wasn't too convinced of that, but he obediently bent his legs to make room after glaring at John just long enough to get the message across that he wasn't approving of having his own bath disturbed. He had to sit up even further to make John fit on the other side of him. John’s feet brushed against his side as he sat and Arthur slid his own into the space between John’s waist and the wall of the tub. If they scooted down, he suddenly thought, they'd be pressed groin to groin. Arthur wasn't fool enough to ignore the fantasies he had about John anymore, him and Abigail both. They'd saved him, in more ways than one.

Not that he planned on telling them. “Stop sloshing the water around or there won't be any left,” he complained, stopping himself from kicking John just because it would have meant touching too much of his naked skin to _John’s_ naked skin. John had the nerve to roll his eyes at him and get comfortable, throwing his arms over the edges of the tub.

“Oh shut up, Arthur.”.

It looked like John was trying to wiggle himself into an even more comfortable position or _something_ , whatever it was, Arthur had to catch his foot before he could kick _him_ in the crotch with it. Arthur raised a brow at John, who at least had the decency to look a little bashful.

“Sorry,” John muttered, ducking his head and rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. 

They settled down, finally, and Arthur closed his eyes, let his toes curl mindlessly against John's waist. It was nice. Peaceful. The sounds of nature continued to filter in from outside and there was nowhere else Arthur would have rather been than here.

John's toes slid against his hip and Arthur heard John's fingers tap against the rim of the bathtub. 

“So…” John cleared his throat. The tone of voice was enough to let a tendril of worry and _dread_ curl in Arthur's belly. John didn’t usually sound _nervous_ and that never meant anything good. Of course, John being John meant _that_ didn't last long.

“You want me,” John blurted out and Arthur’s eyes snapped open.

Arthur lifted his head to scowled at him. “I'm sorry?” 

John tipped his chin down, frowning back. “You want me,” he repeated. “Me and Abigail.”

“What gave you that idea?” Arthur returned, keeping his face blank. He probably didn’t do an awfully good job at it, but it was worth a try. Uneasily, he cracked his neck, trying to get the sudden tension out of his muscles.

John kept _staring_ at him, furrow in his brow, but he didn't look very angry. If the thought bothered him, he wouldn't have gotten into the same bathtub with Arthur, naked as a jaybird. Still, this was a part of his life that Arthur had been burned in enough times. _Noone_ wanted him like that, not for very long at least. He played dumb.

“You keep looking at me,” John said slowly, “like- I don’t know.” He cleared his throat and finally broke eye contact much to the relief of Arthur. “I could be wrong, but I hope I'm not.”

That did _things_ to Arthur's heart he couldn't bear to think about. It blossomed a kind of hope that had been crushed into dust too many times before. Arthur wished he could have just jumped up and ran as fast and far as his naked feet could carry, which was the reason why he didn’t right there. Naked fella running through the wild countryside tended to attract the wrong kind of attention. So he stayed put, however uneasily. 

Now it was his turn to clear his throat and look at anything _but_ John goddamn Marston with his too open face and lack of common sense to leave things like this alone. “What do you mean?” Arthur asked. “What about Abigail?” He knew Abigail. She wasn’t the sharing type and Arthur couldn’t blame her, neither was he after all. As far as he knew, these two were pretty serious about being faithful to each other, which was proper for a married couple as they were. The last thing Arthur wanted was to come between them. “Won't your _wife_ mind?” He stressed the word as if John could have somehow forgotten that he had tied the knot with his beloved.

To his surprise, John shook his head. “No, she doesn't. I even offered her to fuck you, too.” At that, Arthur tipped his head back against the rim of the tub and closed his eyes. Some stranger had advised him once to count to ten when he got too angry or overwhelmed. Arthur did so now. 

“And what did she say?” he asked eventually. The thought of it! It was ridiculous and yet his heart skipped anxiously to hear the answer. 

A wry smile graced John’s face. “She'll think about it.” There was a pause before John continued. “You know, Arthur, you're the only man I'd be willing to watch with her.”

Arthur coughed and wiped a hand over his mouth, looking away. “How generous,” he bit out. The idea appealed to him as much as it sickened him. He wasn’t about to become their whore, get used whenever they felt like throwing him a crumb of their affection.

John let out an annoyed sound. The slap of John’s palms against the water drew Arthur’s gaze right back to his frustrated face. “You know how we mean it, Arthur! Don't play dumb.” With that, John slumped back into the water. 

For a moment Arthur’s mouth worked silently, trying and failing to form around the words, _any_ words. Opposite him, John shifted as the silence stretched uncomfortably. “You're pretty brave, John Marston, but also stupid like a brick. I could have punched you for saying all this,” Arthur finally said, tried not to grin at the relief washing over John’s face. He wondered how Abigail would have done it, had she been in John’s place. Or if they’d approached him about this together. Arthur would have probably been over the hills within moments of looking at their faces. Well, probably not, he’d never been the running type. 

John relaxed back into the water. The smug little shit was smiling. “If you had wanted to, you would have already done it. I know you, Arthur.”

Then after only a moment of hesitation, John moved, surprising Arthur with his daring and Arthur surprised himself, too, as he let John straddle him, caught him around the waist even so he wouldn't get away too soon. It was strange, he'd dreamed of this, had this exact image running through his mind, but _this_ was different. It was real, the brush of lips, the feeling of one of his hands cupping the back of his neck. John’s beard scratched against his own. 

It was perfect.

John's skin under his hands was real, too. Arthur felt the softness of scars on John’s back, knew all their stories and he let his fingers roam, but not too far even as he thought about letting his fingers wander low over John's ass. He'd never been a man to put his hands where they weren't invited. That was something he wanted John to ask him for, if there ever truly was another situation such as this. But still Arthur’s mind wandered, jumped ahead past the first kisses and touches; wether John would ever let him put his cock inside of him. If Arthur would ever let John put his fingers inside of him, his cock. He'd come across a book once that detailed all sorts of things two people could do with each other, but it had been a victim of a fire years ago, just one more memento lost along with his journal.

Arthur opened his mouth for John's tongue and John rocked down against him, brushing their cocks together. It felt almost too good, reminded Arthur of how long it had been since he'd last been with anyone. The want made Arthur bold, coursing through him with John's weight on his lap, and he reached down to wrap his hand around John's cock. A moan escaped the other man and it was like music to Arthur's ears, something he wanted to hear more of if given the chance. Arthur teased his thumb over John’s shaft.

Holding his cock felt different to holding his own and John, ever the competitive bastard, grabbed a hold of Arthur's cock, too, making Arthur’s breath hitch at feeling calluses that weren't his own. The angle was different, too, made Arthur buck his hips, jostling John who laughed and bit his neck. 

“You’re something else, Marston,” Arthur groaned. He tightened his arm around John, pulled them flush against each other and trapping their hands. Finding a rhythm was difficult with them pressed so close, but Arthur wouldn’t have had it any other way. John's hand slid up his cock while Arthur's moved down, making their hands bump awkwardly, just like their foreheads as they looked down between their bodies. Arthur sought out John's mouth again, mapped it out with his own tongue and feeling the noises John let out, catching them upon his lips. He had to wonder if he could put his mouth on John, someday. Imagining John on his knees in front of him took no effort at all and with the reality of John on his lap he bucked up at the thought. But Arthur faltered at imagining putting his cock inside of John, or receiving John's cock in turn. He couldn’t even imagine how Abigail would fit into all of this, if he would be on his knees between her legs and John behind him… He slowed down his touch and John curses him.

“Don't stop,” John complained hoarsely, tightening his hand in Arthur’s hair and the one on his cock.

Arthur choked down a moan and leaned forward, pressing a kiss against John’s throat and felt John’s long hair tickle his forehead. “Let me take my time, John,” he whispered low in his throat. He put his free hand on John's chest. This touch was deliberate, meant to explore and he slid his thumb roughly over one of John's nipples, like he would with a woman, to see his reaction. John sucked in a breath, nipple hardening to a nub under Arthur's touch and Arthur had a split second thought of putting his mouth on it, too, but he balked. Too much to soon. If John had meant what he said, they'd be more time to explore their limits many times over.

John's hands came up to touch him in turn and it was Arthur who sucked in a breath, too, when John dragged blunt nails over his chest with an open awed look on his face. It had been forever since anyone had looked at him with desire. The hands dragged lower across Arthur's chest, down over his belly and John's forehead bumped against the side of his when he bent his head.

“I think I want to suck you some time, Arthur Morgan,” John murmured, thoughtfully as if he wasn’t quite aware of what he was saying.

Arthur swallowed, couldn't quite catch the moan from leaving him and the way his hips rocked up. “Don't tease, Marston.”

John rocked back on his lap, scowling. “I ain't teasing. I mean what I say.” As if to prove himself, he moved his hand faster over Arthur’s cock, with intent this time as if he could lead Arthur to orgasm like a horse to water. In any case it got Arthur to close his eyes and let his head fall back against the rim of the tub, mouth opening on a gasp. The thought alone! When had John become so brave indeed in things such as these. Maybe the years of running had made him wise after all. A mouth touched the column of his throat and Arthur groaned when he felt John's teeth against his skin.

“I've wanted this for a long time,” said like a secret, but not one John seemed much ashamed by. 

Arthur meant to answer, he'd wanted John for years, but he was too far gone, suddenly on the edge when John took them both in hand and stroked them, almost this side of too rough. His spent disappeared in the water, swept away by the movement of John's hand as he worked them both. Then Arthur took over, urging John's hand away as he worked his palm over his shaft, curled his fingers around him. John's hands dug into his shoulders as he gasped, eyes closed and mouth open and this time Arthur took the initiative, finally, to lean forward, bring their bodies closer with a hand on John's ass and his other working between them, grip tight. He bit a mark into John's throat.  
Maybe that was what set him off, or maybe John had been closer than anticipated, because John seized against him, coming with a guttural moan. Arthur leaned back a little to let John catch his breath, but instead, John slanted their mouths together again, kept kissing him even though Arthur had expected him to pull away. He wondered if this was John when he was alone with Abigail, all desperate longing and closeness. Arthur kisses back, gave as good as he got, matching John touch for touch.

Eventually they slowed, desperation seeping out of them gradually, but still John didn't pull away. His chest pressed against Arthur's and Arthur couldn't deny that his arms were probably too tight around John for him to move far anyway.

Arthur let his head come to rest against the edge of the tub, looking up at John and his heaving chest. “What now?”

The question seemed to break the spell and John pulled away, back to his side of the tub. His eyes were hooded, but not closed off. The tips of his toes touched the sides of Arthur's waist. “I want to talk to Abigail, tell her what we did,” John said thoughtfully.

Arthur nodded. Then he shifted in the water. The thought of Abigail hearing about this didn’t fill him with confidence, quite the opposite. “I should probably leave for a few days, got a job lined up anyway.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Besides, maybe Abigail will be less angry with me if I bring her back something pretty.” 

John laughed. “Maybe, but you underestimate her.” His arms found their rest again on the edges of the bathtub. “We talked about this, you know? About you and me and her, how it could work.”

Arthur shook his head. Both of them were more bold that he'd given them credit for, but what else should he have thought. He knew the way they had danced around each other, pushing and pulling until finally they had come together for real. It had taken them years, but now here they were and they wanted an old fool like Arthur. He shook his head. 

“We want you, Arthur,” John said more softly than Arthur felt comfortable hearing from him. 

“You’re both fools,” Arthur said just as quietly. 

John shrugged. “Maybe, but if it means you being with us I’m alright with that.”

That made Arthur smile, secretly and fondly, glad that John had closed his eyes again and couldn’t see his face. 

They lingered until the water got cold and then it was Arthur who pulled himself out of the water first, shuddering a little when a breeze brushed over his skin. And then he shuddered again when the tips of John’s fingers passed briefly over his back. 

“Shit, it’s cold,” John complained as he got out of the tub after him and bumped into Arthur even though there was enough space in the room. Granted, Arthur hadn't moved far away either, let his hand stroke unsure along John's waist as they stepped apart, steadying him on the now wet floor as they dripped on it. 

“Get dressed and you won’t be as cold anymore,” Arthur shot back as he rubbed a towel over his skin. For a moment he hesitated, then he threw the towel over John’s head, laughing as he sputtered. And then, when John yanked the material off with an indignant noise, Arthur caught his mouth in a kiss. A second later, he pulled back and cleared his throat. “Maybe you’re right, maybe we can work it out. All three of us together.”

“We’ll be fine. Us against the world, right?” John said, smiling so softly Arthur felt like punching him just to get his equilibrium back, right his world that John had send spinning.

Instead, Arthur smiled back helplessly and shrugged. “Sure.”

They heaved bucketful of water outside and then upended the basin on the grass when it was light enough for both of them to carry. Then Arthur ducked in, pressed their lips together and dared John to say anything stupid, but he drew Arthur in for another quick kiss. Their feet brought them outside onto the porch and they took a seat side by side. 

Arthur pulled out a cigarette, held it out for John before putting another one between his lips. The little flame cast a shadow on John’s face, made his eyes glitter and Arthur saw their future spread out in front of him, just for a moment. Then it was gone. He smiled, lit his own cigarette and leaned back, let the peace rush over him. Arthur knocked his knee against John's and they watched the road until the carriage Abigail and Jack had taken into town ambled around the bend and towards them, slowly but surely.


End file.
